


"That's Cheating."

by ScripStrel



Series: Michael Mell - Actual Demon [5]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Demons, Demon Summoning, Demons, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Squip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 20:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17608142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScripStrel/pseuds/ScripStrel
Summary: "Jeremy's never gonna let me live this down."You bet your ass he isn't.It's a perfect opportunity! They need to talk anyway.





	"That's Cheating."

No, Jeremy was  _ not _ gonna let him live it down.

He’d asked. He’d fucking  _ asked _ Michael if he could be summoned. Sure, he asked it as a joke, but Michael treated it like the stupidest thing he could’ve possibly said. “I’m not a dog, dude. You can’t just call my name and have me show up,” was followed shortly by “Can’t get enough of me as it is, can you?” and then a near-constant stream of “Hey, Jer, think you can summon me up a can of soda?”

“Why don’t you just summon the test answers?”

“I bet I could summon you with the right picture of Funtime Foxy. I could find a minefield of those with the right Google search.”

And as much as Jeremy would roll his eyes and punch him and say he  _ wasn’t a furry, Michael  _ and pretend his voice crack didn’t make it all ten times worse, he was mostly just pissed that he didn’t have any good leverage. Michael was a  _ demon, _ for crying out loud. He could throw stuff across the room and shapeshift and probably actually drive Jeremy insane if he wanted.

Well, he was kind of doing that already, but that was neither here nor there.

Anyway, the fact that  _ Rich fucking Goranski  _ had beat him to trying out his theory stung. Even more so because Michael had been poofed out of their gaming sesh when they’d been about to beat the boss they’d been working on for hours.

So he had a plan.

Brooke, the angel that she was, had taught him everything he needed to know.

"Rich said he almost brought his Squip back?" Jeremy said, biting his lip. He scribbled away at the looseleaf corner of his math homework, taking notes.

Brooke waved his concern off. "Yeah, because he had it for years. You don't need to sweat it."

"Are you sure?"

Brooke smiled at him, her eyes alight with amusement. "Spiritual energy likes to follow the path of least resistance. You've already got such a strong bond. If there's any demon that would be summoned to you easily, it would be Michael."

Jeremy knew she didn't mean anything by it. Right? She couldn't have. Still, standing on his back porch, squinting between his illegible scrawl and the equally illegible runes, he could feel heat rise to his cheeks. Damnit.

Okay, so maybe there was more to his plan than just payback.

The candles were burning, sending curls of smoke into the starry sky. His chalk skills were a little squiggly, considering he hadn't drawn sidewalk shit since fourth grade, but it would work just fine. Probably. The salt circle was equally sloppy, and probably overcompensating a little, just in case Brooke was wrong and something dangerous did show up. Jeremy wasn't sure if salt could actually do anything to his best friend (or any demon for that matter), but better safe than sorry.

Of course, Michael lived primarily off of potato chips, so what did he know?

Focus. Summoning. Incantations and shit.

Jeremy had no fucking idea what he was doing. The words made no sense. He couldn't even tell if the inky shapes were actual letters he could pronounce, or if maybe someone had decided to write their spell book in ancient emojis (or hieroglyphs, as Christine's voice corrected in his head), but that wasn't gonna stop him from trying. Brooke said it would be easy because he already had a spiritual connection with Michael, right? Well then.

"Here goes nothing," Jeremy said under his breath.

The otherwise pleasant evening air went stagnant as he read. The crickets stopped chirping, the leaves stopped rustling. Hell, even the neighbor's shitty radiator stopped humming. 

Jeremy's vision narrowed. The candles flickered with his breath as the colors of the backyard drained away. He was breathless and shaking. His knuckles seized against the crumbly spell book binding. His voice was pulled out of him on a rope, drawn free like wire. He didn't even know what he was saying, but suddenly he couldn't stop.

He was speaking words he didn't understand. He didn't even know if they were words, and he couldn't even move. He couldn't fucking  _ stop. _

Stop.

Stop.

_ Please, stop! _

Something twanged behind his eyes, and the trance snapped. Jeremy gasped for breath, letting air fill his lungs and sweet freedom fill his veins.

Holy shit.

"You're an idiot, you know."

Jeremy, who had bent over as his head reeled, snapped up. Michael just looked back at him from the center of the circle.

"Yeah, probably," Jeremy said between gasps.

Michael ran a hand through his hair. "This totally counts as cheating, by the way," he said.

Jeremy doubled over again in a coughing fit. Okay, so messing with supernatural stuff was not nice on his frail human body. Point fucking taken. "What are you talking about?" He was wheezing.

"I bet you that I could beat your AotD Solo Mode speedrun, remember?" Michael seemed to have no sympathy for Jeremy's pain. Asshole. “You pulled me out at minute twelve.” He was sporting his wolfish pointed grin, and his dark eyes shimmered in the candlelight.

Jeremy’s face went warm again. Damnit.

"Yeah, well," he said, finally feeling like he wasn't straight-up dying, "I can't just  _ let _ you win."

"You can't just yank me away from the TV when I'm on a roll either." Michael's voice held more amusement than anger, even if it was starting to devolve into several layers.

"Well I just did," Jeremy said with a shrug.

Michael flipped him off. "Sure, whatever. Can you let me out?"

Jeremy choked on nothing. His heart started pounding in his ears. The air was unbearably still again. "No."

Michael gave a confused laugh. "What?" he said. "Why not?"

Nausea and breathlessness scrambled in Jeremy's chest. This had been the plan. It really, really had, but that didn't mean he actually knew what the fuck he was doing. He had to do it. Had to say it, but holy shit, his anxiety was deciding it might kill him first. He'd been so worried about the actual summoning part that he hadn't done enough to psych himself up. Well, okay. He probably would've just suffered more if he was worried about it all night, but this sucked. He tried to squeak out some excuse, but his voice stuck in his throat.

"Dude, just get rid of the salt so I'm not stuck standing in the same spot."

"No," Jeremy said.

"Seriously, man. Let's just go play Co-Op or something."

"No!" Jeremy fought to get his bearings. The air was heavy and humid, like he was trying to breathe with a pillow pressed over his face. "I—" his voice broke and he swallowed. "I need to tell you something."

"And you can't let me out first because...?" Michael's eyes were glowing with shadows now. No, Jeremy didn't know how that was possible, and honestly he didn't care. He was freaked out enough already that Michael's demon-ness didn't do shit except fluster him.

Damnit.

Jeremy’s hands were shaking. "You might want to punch me."

“Yeah, I definitely will if you don’t tell me what the fuck you’re getting at,” Michael said. 

Jeremy swallowed, even though his throat felt like it was swollen with bile. He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Look, I didn't know how else to tell you, and I didn't even really  _ want _ to tell you, but it's not fair for you not to know."

Michael crossed his arms, shifting his weight. "You're freaking me out, man," he said. 

Jeremy laughed, a dry, humorless laugh. In the back of his mind, he wondered if maybe the salt he'd spilled everywhere could burn him, too. His lungs stung like he'd swallowed seawater, and his vision swam with dry crystals. His voice cracked all over the place as he said, " _ You're _ freaked out? I'm the moron who thought this was a good idea!"

"Thought  _ what _ was a good idea? You're still not telling me shit!" Michael’s voice rose with his frustration. He ran a hand through his hair.

Jeremy’s face was on fire and his heart beat against his ribs, trying to escape. Michael’s ruffled hair caught the few scraps of his attention which weren’t in a screeching panic. He wanted to run his fingers through it, and the thought made his skin burn even more. "Well it's not easy to just tell your best friend that you—” His voice broke. 

Realization flickered across Michael's face. "Oh."

Jeremy’s heart seized in his chest. He wasn’t sure if that reaction was good or not, but the blood rushed out of his face as quickly as it had flooded it in the first place. "Wait, you knew already?"

Michael suddenly wouldn’t meet his gaze. "I, uh... I'm not sure,” he said, studying the chalk scribbles under his feet.

Well that sounded like some grade-A bullshit. "You're sure acting like you have  _ some _ fucking idea," Jeremy said. 

Michael bit his lip. "No, Jeremy, I don't,” he said, “and I don’t want to think about it. I might  _ suspect. _ I might have heard some rumors, and I just might  _ hope, _ but—"

"What do you mean,  _ hope? _ " 

Michael shrunk into himself. Soulless eyes shimmered behind his glasses. "You might want to punch me.”

"Fuck yeah, I want to punch you!” Jeremy’s heart was in his throat, still hammering away, which was weird and kind of gross and definitely didn’t do anything to help his nausea. “You can't just say you were hoping I'd like you out of nowhere!" His eyes pricked with warmth. 

Tears trailed down Michael’s cheeks. "You can't just kidnap me and hold me hostage to try and breach the subject!"

Jeremy choked on his own voice. His breath ripped through his chest and his pulse raced so much it was starting to make him lightheaded and turn his brain to jelly, which was his only real excuse for what he did next. 

It was probably a really bad idea to get into a salt circle with a demon, but before he could freak out about it, he lunged across the porch and threw himself into Michael's arms. He was warm and soft and Jeremy's insides were being microwaved, judging by the gooey heat spreading through him. Michael, stunned, hugged back, gripping into Jeremy's sweater. 

"We're idiots," Michael murmured into his hair. Jeremy chuckled wetly and peered at him through dripping eyelashes. Michael's hair was a rumpled mess, his glasses slipping down his nose and speckled with the residue of tears which continued to shine in his obsidian-dark eyes. The points of his teeth poked and gnawed at his lips, red and oh, so inviting.

"You're the bigger idiot," Jeremy said, letting his anxieties and fears melt away in the heat of Michael's embrace and the glow of his flustered smile. He smirked at that. Michael was usually the one flustering him, but nuzzling into his neck, Jeremy could apparently get some solid payback. 

"Oh yeah?" Michael asked.

"Yeah," Jeremy said, tilting his head so his words ghosted across Michael's mouth, "you let yourself get caught."

Michael radiated heat, even as his lips turned up into a hesitant smile. Jeremy grinned back. His tears were steaming away, and his insides were flickering like the candle flames reflecting on his best friend's glasses. 

If spiritual shit followed the path of least resistance, he might as well stop resisting, right?

The kiss was soft, hesitant. Michael's lips were like pillows, and Jeremy pressed in with much less fervor than he'd intended. Something in his gut ached for more, but his brain was busy going fuzzy and melting into the marshmallowy comfort. It was like a sigh of relief. Like falling under layers of quilts while fat snowflakes drifted past the windows. It was like the world had stopped, going silent. Only this time it was quiet, not empty. Michael's arms wrapped around him, enveloping Jeremy in weightless peace as he wound his hands through his hair. 

Jeremy pulled away from the dreamlike haze. Warmth licked its way up his neck, and he shuddered as his heart restarted, thrumming in his chest. Michael could probably feel it beat against his ribs, as they were still on top of each other, sharing every last shuddering breath. 

"That's  _ really _ cheating," Michael said. “You’re a rotten cheater.” He pressed another kiss to Jeremy's mouth. 

"I know," Jeremy said with a smile. 

He knew he had to clean up the mess of salt and half-melted candles. He knew it was getting late and cold and Michael hadn't even agreed to come over, much less to be stuck standing in the supernatural equivalent of a bear trap, but honestly?

Right now he was perfectly content where they were, tangled in each other’s arms and summoning up whatever this lovely, floaty feeling in his chest was. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be the second chapter to the last fic I wrote, but I decided it was too dependent on the ship to really relate to that one well enough.
> 
> I adore feedback, so please feel free to tell me what you think!


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